


Now I Want to Hold You Too

by toosolidcuuj



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Art, Beard Braiding, Fluff, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Matchmaker Mabel Pines, Post-Canon, Post-Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toosolidcuuj/pseuds/toosolidcuuj
Summary: Ford didn't expect braiding Fiddleford's beard to be so intimate.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Now I Want to Hold You Too

The party welcoming both sets of Pines twins back for the summer had never really ended. Mabel’s friends had slept over that night, and Soos was still playing party music even into the afternoon. Fiddleford had come over for lunch and now he and Ford were discussing new projects, blueprints scattered all over the dining room table.

Becoming a man of means had suited Fiddleford. He now spoke with the confidence Ford remembered from the old days. He stood up straighter, and the healthy weight he’d gained filled his endearingly garish patterned shirt in all the right ways. Yes, Ford was happy he was doing so well, and that their friendship had been rekindled.

But Ford had to admit, feelings of friendship weren’t all that had been rekindled in him, especially when their hands lingered around each other, tracing the blueprints, or when Fiddleford gave him that familiar lopsided grin, or hearing him hum quietly the way he always did while thinking hard. Still, Ford worried it was too soon, or perhaps inappropriate altogether, to make any romantic overtures to Fiddleford. He didn’t even know exactly how much Fiddleford remembered of their romantic history. No, it was better to take their relationship as it currently was, because the fact that Fiddleford was even talking to him again put a spring in Ford’s step.

He and Fiddleford had finished making revisions to one of the cooling systems when a short cough caught their attention. It was only then that they noticed Ford’s thirteen-year-old grandniece standing next to them, her two best friends not far behind her.

“Are you two having fun?” Mabel was grinning widely enough to make Ford a bit wary. Had she planted a glitter bomb again?

“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Fiddleford’s been showing me -”

“Yeah, we know,” called Stan from the kitchen. “You two have been at it for hours. I’m gonna need you to clear the table before dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Sure thing, Stanley,” replied Fiddleford. “We were at a pretty good stopping place, weren’t we, Ford?”

“You two should join our braid train!” said Mabel.

“I appreciate the offer, Mabel,” said Ford, “but I don’t think either of us have hair long enough to braid.”

“Mr. McGucket’s beard is long enough,” Grenda pointed out.

“I bet an extra finger really comes in handy for holding multiple sections of hair,” said Candy.

“It’s definitely been useful for tying complicated knots,” Ford agreed, “but I’m afraid I’ve never tried braiding hair before.”

Mabel gasped. “Really? Okay, now we _have_ to teach you. Are you ready for a new look, Mr. McGucket?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt none.”

Once the dining table was clear of blueprints and they took their seats in the living room, Ford noticed his heart rate pick up a little. Braiding Fiddleford’s beard was going to include touching his face, and the last time they had been in each other’s personal space like this was many, many years ago, in a . . . different context.

“Let’s start with a simple braid,” said Mabel, running her fingers through Grenda’s hair. “Divide the hair into three even sections, like this.”

Ford let out a deep breath and ran his hands along Fiddleford’s jawline, blushing at the memory of using the same movement to pull him in for a kiss, once upon a time. He was close enough to notice Fiddleford’s cheeks also reddening beneath his facial hair.

“Is this okay?” he asked Fiddleford, just to be sure.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Go on and do as she tells you.”

He could feel Fiddleford’s facial muscles moving beneath his hands - but he had to focus! Three sections of hair. He could do that.

Fiddleford’s beard was shorter and much better groomed than it had been last summer. The weird little bandage was gone. Ford hadn’t expected to enjoy the sensation of soft hair through his fingers so much. With Mabel’s simple instructions, the strands were soon woven together into a thick braid.

“That looks great!” she praised him. “You’re picking this up fast! You want to try a French braid?”

“O-okay.”

Candy turned out to be right about his extra fingers coming in handy, though it still took him a few tries to get the hang of it.

“Nice! Keep going, Grunkle Ford! Careful not to drop that strand.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Candy, pulling out her cell phone. “That boy I told you about from regionals just texted me! Do you think I should send him a selfie?”

“Ooh!” squealed Mabel. “We should take your picture outside while the lighting is good.”

Before Ford could say anything, the three girls ran out the door with nothing more than a “keep practicing, Grunkle Ford!” from Mabel. Their giggles slowly faded away.

“She’s a regular ray of sunshine, ain’t she?” said Fiddleford.

“Yes,” agreed Ford. “I’m very lucky to have her and her brother in my life.”

“Me too. You know they helped me start getting my memories back.”

“Yet another thing I’m grateful to them for.” He came to the end of Fiddleford’s beard with a hum.

“I reckon that looks pretty snazzy,” said Fiddleford, checking his reflection in the window, but Ford shook his head.

“Hang on, let me try that again, it got really messy near the end.” He reached for the beard again, more out of a desire not to end this intimate moment with Fiddleford than out of dedication to immaculate braiding.

Fiddleford grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. “Always the perfectionist.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Guilty as charged!” With a laugh Fiddleford added, “Do you remember that stupid fight we had about coffee filters? We was yelling at each other right in this here room, weren’t we?”

Ford’s breath caught. Of course he remembered. He also remembered that fight had ended with a makeout session on the couch.

Did Fiddleford?

“Yes, it was in here,” he answered. “But . . . is the yelling all you remember?”

“No.”

He said it quietly, but with an intensity that brought Ford to a rigid attention. The tender look in his eye loosened Ford’s tongue, and before he knew it he blurted out, “I’m still in love with you.”

Fiddleford brought a trembling hand to Ford’s face. “Ford . . .”

Leaning into the touch, his hands moving from Fiddleford’s beard and onto his shoulders, Ford continued, “I know that after everything that happened between us, it’s more than I could ever ask for simply to be your friend again. And if you want to keep it that way, I’ll still consider myself incredibly fortunate. But if you still feel anything romantic towards me -”

Fiddleford cut him off with a kiss, soft and tender, leaving Ford tingling as he pulled away. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, consarn it, Stanford, I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Which I did try. Multiple times. I don’t want to try again.”

“Me neither,” said Ford, and pulled him into another kiss, more intense than the first. Ford’s hands fell around Fiddleford’s waist and pulled him closer. When their mouths broke apart, their foreheads rested together, drinking in the closeness that had so long been denied them.

“The beard’s different,” murmured Ford. “But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fidds chuckled, rubbing his beard on Ford’s face and peppering him with kisses. Ford was laughing when their lips met again.

“Oh, great,” said Stan, jolting them apart. “Now I owe Mabel fifteen bucks.”

“Stanley!” Ford cried. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Literally two seconds, sheesh,” said Stan, leaning against the doorway. “I just wanted to tell you dinner was ready, not watch you make out like a creep.”

“And since when do you gamble with the kids?”

“Since when do I _not_ gamble with anyone? I really shouldn’t have bet against Mabel’s matchmaking skills, though. I just thought you two were so repressed, you wouldn’t know a gay urge if it bit you in the rear.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Just because I like to keep things private doesn’t mean I’m repressed, Stanley. I accepted the fact that I’m gay back in college, when we first got together.”

“Really? So Mabel didn’t _start_ your relationship, she just got you back together. I think I can make this work for me.”

“You give that girl her fifteen dollars, Stanley,” Fiddleford insisted. “I never would’ve guessed that braid train business was a setup. That girl is good.”

When she came in for dinner and found Fiddleford and Stanford holding hands, Mabel squealed and accepted her winnings with relish. Though Dipper was less exuberant, he did say that their getting together was “neat, real neat. You guys are, like, the ultimate science power couple.” Even Stan admitted that despite all the teasing, he was happy for them.

“It gives me a lot of hope for the future,” said Ford as he walked Fiddleford home that evening, “having that kind of support from family.”

“Don’t it?” Fiddleford concurred. “Those kids ain’t growing up with the same limits on self expression, or love, that we did. What a blessing that is.”

“For so long, I felt like I didn’t have a future,” said Ford. “Everything was about stopping Bill. But now, the possibilities are endless. This is the freest I’ve ever felt. I’m so glad I get to share that with you.”

“I feel exactly the same way.”

Ford kissed Fiddleford then, right there in the street, not caring at all if anyone saw.

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork is by the wonderful and talented [titanium-ions](https://titanium-ions.tumblr.com/post/642900679940308992/now-i-want-to-hold-you-too-so-this-fic-by) on tumblr. This is the first time someone has done artwork directly based on my fanfiction and I'm seriously just so honored. Wow.


End file.
